10 Timeless Heroes; A Time Travel Romance Boxed Set

by P. L. Parker, Beth Trissel, L. L. Muir, Skhye Moncrief, Sky Purington, Nancy Lee Badger, Caroline Clemmons, Bess McBride, Donna Michaels

  A cool breeze reminded me of the ghost. There weren't any spooks out here. No. I skirted the car and unlocked the door, happily falling into my squeaking seat.

  Everyone loaded into the vehicle.

  The bobbing box of a car. If I pushed the horn, I'd hear a honking clown. That's what the Agila needed. A big red nose to squeeze when the world ticked a girl off. Nobody would bitch if a girl made a car squeak like a clown. Would the world care at all anyway? I stared down the road over the steering wheel.

  Today had become a three-ring circus. Run a man over. Fight a ghost. And the buildings seemed taller.

  "Where to next?" Pam asked.

  Who cared? "It doesn't matter."

  A dark wooden door swung open across the street, producing a man, stepping out onto the sidewalk in a brown suit. The door slapped shut behind him. Sunlight flashed upon something metallic near his waist. The man turned, heading away from us. His jacket was shorter than the day's fashion. His green beret-like tam made him appear to have just rolled in from the Highlands.

  "Can we swing by that rock shop?" Jennifer asked.

  "That sounds good. We can find something to eat too. All right Katie?" Pam asked.

  Then the end of the day lurked. Spend the night in Culcreuch Castle? How could I get out of that nightmare? But I was the one who insisted we pinch corners while traveling all over the Highlands in a clown car just so we could afford one amazing night's stay in a grand haunted building. I gulped down my budding complaint about the castle sleepover and turned the key. "Mr. Wood's Fossil Shop it is."

  The little car rumbled to life.

  Mr. Wood's Fossil Shop seemed right around the corner from the Vaults. I whizzed the rental car into a parking place and parked. If only I could do the same with my intuitive fear blaring don't stay in the haunted castle. Damn, Mr. Boots.

  "Come on Katie," Jennifer threw her door wide.

  In a minute. "Go on." I so needed a breather. All the driving, running over Mr. Perfect, and the ghostly Mr. Boots was too much. "I'm going to sit here a few minutes. You go ahead."

  Murdo sat like a tartan draped statue in his seat.

  The girls slammed their doors and ventured through the shop's red door.

  But why didn't he go too? I studied Murdo's curious mask.

  He raised his brown eyebrows only to drop them quickly.

  Is that cynicism? Or had I acted like a total idiot back in the Vaults? "You really didn't see Mr. Boots?" Hopefully. The absurd question just needed asking.

  He wagged his head sympathetically.

  "I did." I sighed, turning back to the white sedan parallel-parked in front of where a large yellow bumper sticker declared the car owner's soccer loyalty was to the Celts. "I did."

  "If you didn't, I'd wonder what all that fuss was about."

  Well, he didn't label me a nutcase. "I don't know what happened back there." I propped an elbow on the car door and leaned a cheek on my knuckles. "Nothing like that has ever happened to me before."

  His unwavering stare could have burned a hole clean through me.

  "I've heard spirits seek out those who can assist them or those they need to speak to," he admitted.

  For what? Mr. Perfect would laugh at what Mr. Boots said. "He told me he wanted his money." What would Murdo say? I glanced sideways at his stoic mask.

  His dark eyebrows arched. "You owe Mr. Boots money?"

  Yes, the thought was ludicrous. Beyond insane. I couldn't keep from bursting out, laughing.

  His laughter didn't help me catch my breath.

  "Stop." I smacked his arm. "You're making my sides hurt."

  "'Tis best you don't fash over the spirit in the tenements."

  The fossil shop's front door swung open.

  Pam and Jennifer hustled to the car with paper bags.

  Talk about fast. I pointed at the girls.

  Jennifer climbed into the car first. "Oh, Katie. You should have seen all the fossils. It was amazing." She waved her sack at me. "Don't worry. I bought you something."

  Jennifer was as poor as I am. Probably in debt for a lifetime with grad school expenses. "You didn't have to do that." Then again, she could pawn her diamond engagement ring for cash. Or charge to bed all those gorgeous men.

  Jennifer unraveled the crackling paper bag as Pam dropped into her seat.

  Jennifer extracted a ball of tissue paper and thrust the wad my direction. "Here. This is so you won't forget this year's excursion."

  Why not just accept the token? Call it a peace offering for stealing all the big sexy kilted men. I took the lightweight whispering ball of tissue.

  There couldn't have been anything inside the bundle. "Mr. Woods must make quite a profit selling wads of tissue paper."

  Pam cackled.

  "Open it," Jennifer groaned.

  A length of dark cording with a tiny ribbed shell-like pendant wriggled free of the whispering mass of tissue. The shell had an insect-like head. Nature's art. At times like these, I knew why I loved my annoying friend. "It's wonderful." I plucked the cord from the rumpled paper.

  "It's a trilobite." Jennifer smiled.

  "They predate dinosaurs," Pam added, cooing with forced interest.

  Like she knew the fact since her childhood. But neither of us were into biology like Jennifer. "Are they for luck?" I unclasped the closure and clipped the fossil necklace securely behind my neck.

  "I just like them," Jennifer declared. "They remind me of the ocean and marine life."

  Murdo eyed the pendant from his seat.

  Perhaps a bit of opinion from him was what we needed. I tugged on the trilobite, centering it beneath my chin. "What do you think, Murdo?"

  "It looks fine on you." He smiled, flashing his straight white teeth.

  What a pity men couldn't be trusted. Men with glorious sculpted bodies and sparkling perfect smiles. But wise girls trusted their friends. But maybe, maybe, after he saved me, Murdo could be my friend?

  "I've got one for you too, Murdo." Jennifer's French manicure produced another crumpled piece of paper.

  Murdo smiled over his shoulder at Jennifer.

  Wench. Romance was hopeless with Princess Guinevere around.

  "Where to next? The Covenanter's Prison?" Pam asked.

  Never. "Are you kidding? Not with a ghost there renowned for chasing people from the buildings."

  Pam waved off the comment.

  "Lunch then?" Jennifer piped. "I'm going to buy Murdo lunch. He thinks I'm a princess."

  Princess Slut. Jennifer can have Romeo. I snuck a peek in the rearview mirror.

  Pam rolled her dark eyes skyward over her scowl.

  "Let's board one of those double-decker tour buses and ride around looking for a place to eat," Jennifer said.

  ****

  Murdo watched the pedestrians dodge traffic from his terrestrial-cart window en route to catch the bus. The busy Edinburghers made way down sidewalks lined by tall buildings stained with age. People dressed in trousers everywhere. He choked down a snort. Not one Scotsman sported a kilt. What's wrong with twenty-first-century people? The full brunt of these Scots' Gaelic cultural rejuvenation had yet to strike though. Both the twenty-first and second centuries were sorely in need of the ethnicity boost. Time. Just a little more time. And all would change.

  A blonde female, with short hair styled like Pam, stepped out of a vehicle parked ahead.

  Why women cut their hair short, I'll never understand. Maidens aren't maidens without long sensual hair. However, the redhead has grown on me. Pam is sensible and managed to tolerate Guinevere's mindless rambling. Still, Katie is the special maiden as designated by the Seer. Why?

  And to have spirit chasing as a hobby? Ludicrous. The capitalist lunacy of paying money to dally with spirits is just that. Ludicrous. What odd pilgrimages these Centurians made. Not one spark of spirituality burned in their quests.

  The car surged to the right.

  The maiden whipped the vehicle into a parking space with two burst
s of forward broken by one rearward burst of momentum.

  Centrifugal force swung my shoulder into the hard car door.

  Dull pain jabbed through the muscle.

  Gods damn. I grabbed my shoulder, kneading the point of impact while glancing at her sideways.

  She needs a good lesson in terrestrial-cart operation.

  "Let's go." Katie killed the engine.

  Didn't anyone else mind her pathetic piloting? I glanced at the females in the backseat.

  Both scrambled for their backpacks.

  Oblivious to Katie's horrible display of piloting. Or wanting to escape it.

  A tall long red automobile pulled up. Its brakes screeched.

  What is that? The most ridiculous terrestrial cart in history. The top open, seats jutting skyward with people peering down at us.

  "Hurry, Murdo."

  A hand grabbed my door from outside. "We've got to go."

  The redhead pulled the door open.

  Females and their ideas. I hastened to follow the maiden pack.

  We wove through a crowd, toward the open door of the bizarre red vehicle, and up its three steps. Whatever the females are up to is a mystery. I just swallowed my questions and waited to see what else training had conveniently omitted about this time period.

  A blast of sweet tobacco smoke curled around us.

  Guinevere popped some coin in a machine. The machine spat out a bit of paper.

  She ripped the paper off and handed it to me. "Hang onto this ticket. It's good for the rest of the day."

  Easy enough. I fisted fingers around the thick paper scrap.

  "Come on." Guinevere grinned a naughty wench smile.

  Will she bite like an angry mongrel or rip my clothes off?

  The maidens stepped into the people-filled space. I just followed up a stairwell into bright sunlight.

  The top open to glorious sky and wind.

  The females diffused along the upper deck, sinking into vacant seats.

  Miracles do happen. An empty seat remained next to Katie. Not Guinevere. After the earlier bout with a spirit, Katie needed a Post-Modern alchemist for a guardian. The Seer might return for another round of fisticuffs. I settled in at her hip.

  Katie smiled innocently. "So what do New Zealanders prefer to eat?"

  Druid-blue eyes could mesmerize a man.

  She blinked, waiting.

  The innocent. "Whatever is available when one is hungry."

  The bus jostled into a run and whirred down a street.

  Wind tugged a few strands of loose hair across the maiden's face. "You don't want haggis?" Her pointed nose knotted up in a nub.

  Oh to smooth the knot out, ease her curiosity. "Haggis is fine if there's naught else to eat."

  "Then what do people eat in New Zealand? Oatmeal?"

  "Mutton and fish." At least, hopefully the reply is correct. The Druids don't teach much about New Zealand in the thirty-first century. The island is far from the truest form of Gaelic culture. There's no need to spend time studying something so distanced from the pre-English domination culture under scrutiny by my brethren of the future.

  She smiled, glancing at the passing buildings. "I'm certain we can find some mutton and fish around here."

  Guinevere hung over the edge of the bus with one of her cameras, thrusting her blue-jean- covered arse in plain view.

  At least, the gadget kept the seductive wench preoccupied.

  Three young period males with cigarettes dangling from their lips noticed Guinevere's pose. The puffing trio never ceased its heated discussion while scanning her arse. Beyond them, Pam chatted with an old man in a tweed jacket.

  The man's pipe bobbed as he replied, his words lost to the wind and engine's groaning chant.

  Pam smiled, stood, headed straight for Katie, grabbed the back of a Katie's seat, and knelt. "The gentleman I spoke with says we should wander down Nicolson Street for good eats."

  A talking Guinevere is a busy Guinevere.

  ****

  The smoky pub was pleasantly medicinal to Katie. Just chalk that up to the residual nicotine in the air, she concluded. But the shadows were calming. Ghost free. For now. Far less hairy these days spent on vacation.

  "All right, Katie." Pam placed her pint of beer on the table.

  The dark brown liquid sloshed a few seconds before stilling inside the glass. The calming brew didn't squelch Pam's patronizing tone. I glanced at Jennifer.

  The pub filled beyond her with laughing men. All out for lunch. Jennifer's mask was as haughty as Pam's though. Determined. Will they still insist on spending the night at the haunted castle? Even Murdo? I eyed him as he studied the crowd to the left.

  What would he suggest we do for the evening? He had worried about me earlier. I think that's what had happened. Maybe he'd stick up for me and my concerns now. I could use a little support with the night's looming sleepover at Casper's castle.

  He shoved a bite of his T-bone onto his knife with his fork.

  At least, he wasn't condescending earlier. Would he be now? And why isn't he paying attention to me and my dilemma? Maybe he's too absorbed in his meal. Typical guy. Food or breasts. I had to stop cutting him slack. But how would Pam react to my new thoughts about the night? "I say let's just find the closest hotel and grab a room."

  "We've got reservations," Pam declared and glanced at the white face of her watch. Light glinted off the quartz crystal of her not-so-trendy outlet mall steal of a Fossil timepiece. "It's three," she piped.

  So much for delays. "I see." I stared at the woven brown braiding of the leather watchband.

  "We called and confirmed the reservations yesterday," Pam began as if she could read my mind. "Everything is on my credit card--"

  "I know." Crap. Hello, ghosts. "I know. I'll be fine." I grabbed a fork and knife and began sawing away at the juicy medium-rare steak Jennifer had so graciously purchased for me after the Vault incident.

  "You're really shook up about the Mr. Boots thing, aren't you?" Pam groaned.

  Must Pam keep talking? I shrugged and chewed warm salty beef.

  Too delectably juicy.

  "We're sharing rooms. What about Murdo?" Jennifer asked with a disgusting grin.

  Undoubtedly factoring Murdo into the evening.

  "What?" His stare seemed a bit shell-shocked. He gently laid his knife and fork on the table.

  He couldn't possibly have missed Jennifer's body language inviting him into her bed all day.

  "He'll have to sleep with one of us." Pam said matter-of-factly.

  Jennifer's grin stretched between her ears.

  Whore.

  "Me. He'll room with me," Pam boomed.

  If there ever was a time to shout hallelujah, that moment is now.

  Pam hefted her knife, shaking it at Murdo's confused stare. "No funny business, Romeo. You're getting to spend the night at a luxury castle converted to a hotel that only a Laird would have slept in two hundred years ago. Watch your P's and Q's, and I'll let you live to see dawn."

  Murdo turned back to his pile of mashed potatoes and cabbage.

  ****

  Sitting with the feasting lasses, Murdo couldn't believe his ears as he chewed the steak. I'm going to spend the night with maidens? No. With Red. Somehow the finely-honed dirk Pam waved in front of my face didn't translate into a night filled with bower coos from a honeymoon.

  "But I'd rather sleep with a big guy who can protect me from ghosts," Guinevere whined.

  The brunette wench grinned across the table at me like I was a succulent morsel of food on her plate. Och! I thrust a bite of savory soft carrot between my lips and chewed frantically to save my arse.

  How had I left the guiles of Druidesses in the future only to fall into the clutches of three twenty-first-century females in the past?

  Red waved her dirk at Guinevere. "You're sleeping with Katie. I have enough problems to worry about without chasing a howling biologist around the castle."

  "Howling?" Guinevere po
uted.

  "We had two rounds of it so far today. Spare us, little girl." Red grabbed a piece of bread from the breadbasket and dabbed her dirk in a crock of butter.

  "Little girl?" Guinevere mocked at the lunch remnants on her plate. She stabbed a golden chunk of roasted potato.

  "Maybe there will be a pack of kilted Scotsmen with long swords available to guard your door?" Red gnashed the end of her buttered roll. "For a nominal fee." Red's mask brightened with inspiration. "Perhaps you can work for the favor."

  Guinevere slammed her cutlery on the wooden tabletop, crossed her arms over her chest, and glared at the ceiling.

  Naught compared to the epitome of her princess behavior. Bless the Gods, there are no princesses in the future. At least on planet Scotia Major and the minor Gaelic worlds.

  Katie met Murdo's gaze with sincerity. "It's been a long twenty-nine days."

  Truth hung heavy with those words. "I see." I sucked down a draught of refreshing beer.

  What would the next day bring? The strange detour the Gods sent me through in time was grading into an eerie adventure. How many more days would pass before the fairies revealed my purpose?

  Chapter 5

  "Are we ever going to get to our rooms?" the corporate bulldog droned from the backseat.

  Katie gripped the steering wheel, delaying their arrival by driving under the speed limit toward Culcreuch Castle. Maybe if we arrived late, our rooms would be given to other guests, she wondered.

  The car bobbed through the road's elongated shadows of flanking trees that crept across the sunlit road, stealing away with what they could of what remained of the day.

  Warning me to hurry? Right. I have no intention of speeding straight into another supernatural encounter. So out of the question. Especially when the castle is only a short drive north. What are the odds a tourist would sight two ghostly apparitions on one vacation though? Better yet, two in one day? Where is a lightning storm when a girl needs one? Just burn the castle down and let us move on from these haunting intrigues, world. Do castles burn anyway? Probably not. Hell. I focused on the rugged hillside.

  Damn castles. Damn masons.

  "Take B822," Pam ordered.

  Paper crackled in the backseat.

  The map.

  "It'll take us right to the front door of the castle," Pam added. "I'm ready to get out of this sardine can for a while."